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The pain lanced up Kevin’s arm in a startling blow. His right hand shot out to wrap around Riko’s ankle. Bone crunched. Kevin tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. Riko was watching him; he knew Riko was watching him. He didn’t look up. He couldn’t.
Riko’s foot slowly eased off of Kevin’s hand. Blood pooled beneath his palm.
Kevin reached out to cradle his hand, but Riko batted him away with his shoe.
It felt like all the air had been crushed from his lungs, and he would never breathe again. A laugh, violent and familiar, jerked Kevin’s head up. As he met Riko’s soulless gaze, the Raven captain transformed. It was ugly and horrible, the stretching of Riko’s skin, the black feathers tearing through his back. Something locked Kevin’s gaze there, so he watched until a jet-black raven stood in Riko’s place. Before he could scream, the raven swooped and aimed for his eyes.
Kevin’s limbs flailed as he thrashed awake. Sweat dampened his hair, curling at the back of his neck and the top of his forehead. His chest heaved. The walls looked black as his vision swam, and something awful happened to his heart. He was back at Evermore. Maybe he had never left. Maybe joining the Foxes was all a dream. He’d been a fool to think he could escape, to think that even with a broken hand, Riko would let him go.
He choked back whatever noise wanted to escape.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his wall. It was blank.
Gone were the photographs he had taken on his trips with Riko and around Edgar Allen’s campus. He used to have one of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, angled from the bottom, catching the slant of light setting the domed roof’s tiles into amber. His fingers twitched, as though they would rise and touch one corner of that picture, like he used to. He took another breath. Then another. He continued to breathe until he was reassured that he was in his dormitory at PSU with Andrew sleeping in the bunk beneath him.
Flipping over his phone, he saw that the time was 3:02 AM.
Knowing that he was here in this dorm was not enough. He needed to be on the court. And he needed to go now.
His feet hit the carpeted ground with a thud, loud enough that he knew Andrew would wake up. The goalie stirred, if not a little aggressively. Kevin stared at his sleeping form, bundled up in his blankets, just a tuft of blond hair peeking out onto the pillow.
“Andrew,” Kevin said when he didn’t move.
Andrew’s voice came muffled, but even sleep couldn’t take the edge from his words. “Go back to sleep or I will drop kick you halfway across the room and you will never be able to play Exy again.”
“I can’t.”
It took a second, but Andrew rolled over and slitted both eyes open. He took in Kevin’s stance, the pathetic slope of his shoulders, the haunted look in his eyes, the darkness beneath them that bruised. He threw off his covers. The black of his armbands bled into the night. Kevin simply stood in the middle of the room as Andrew pulled on a sweatshirt then reached for his car keys on the desk. He didn’t look back at Kevin before walking out of the room, and as expected, Kevin followed.
Per usual, the ride to the Foxhole Court was silent.
Andrew stalked past the locker room, and Kevin slipped inside. But this time, he didn’t change out. He was too anxious, too antsy to take away any more time on the court. He grabbed his racquet and a bucket full of balls and headed out.
When he walked past where Andrew was seated in the stands, Andrew took him in, head to toe, but said nothing of Kevin’s sleepwear still clinging to his body.
The orange fox paw in the middle of the court was a welcome sight. Kevin positioned himself in its very center and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. It was not black. He was not a Raven. He was a Fox. And he was going to stay a Fox.
The sound of the bucket crashing down against the polished wood floor resounded through the building. Kevin reached down, hoisted his racquet into his clumsy right hand, and threw a ball into the air.
Kevin slammed balls into the net over and over again. He picked a spot on the wall and did the same. A phantom pain echoed in his left hand. Sweat dripped from his temple to the tattoo on his cheek. The longer he stared at his target, the more it turned into something it was not. First, it was Riko’s face, and Kevin was aiming for the inked one that had mocked him his entire life and continued to do so. Then, it was Jean, unfairly Jean. And finally, as Kevin’s chest heaved, it was his own face. His shot was off; the ball slid from where he’d been aiming and hit his imagined eye, not the black two.
Misery sliced open Kevin’s frustration.
Snapping another ball into the air, he let out a scream, raw, guttural, and short, as he sent the ball flying into the goal. It was the last one.
He sank to his knees, his racquet quietly sliding from his grasp, and buried his hands in his hair. If he tugged hard enough, he could almost imagine that it was Riko’s hands and not his own.
He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, eyes screwed shut, his scalp tingling with faint pain, trying to shut out the memory of Riko’s foot crushing the fine bones of his hand.
Someone else tugged on his hair.
Kevin loosened his grip, but it wasn’t until another tug, this one rougher than the first, that his hands fell to the floor, empty. He looked up into Andrew’s hazel eyes. At some point during Kevin’s meltdown, he had walked onto the court and knelt beside him. His gaze was searing as he searched Kevin’s face, expression bored, always bored. Beneath that look, Kevin was nothing more than a butterfly pinned to a wall. A stuffed raven in the mouth of a fox.
Without tearing himself away from Andrew’s gaze, Kevin reached for his racquet. Andrew knocked Kevin’s hand away and pushed him down onto the court floor; Kevin let him. His fingers were tight around Kevin’s left wrist, nailing it to the floor. His other hand was braced beside Kevin’s head.
Kevin hadn’t bothered turning on the lights when he’d entered the stadium, so shadows obscured half of Andrew’s face. Not that light would have helped read his expression.
“Exy’s not enough,” Andrew said.
“Exy’s always enough.” But tonight, it hadn’t been. No matter how many times he’d refilled his bucket, no matter how many shots he’d scored on an empty goal, it hadn’t been enough to drive Evermore from his mind, from his body.
So now, there was something desperately hungry in Kevin’s eyes. Born of fear, born of need. His breaths were shallow.
“Liar,” Andrew said and kissed Kevin.
It wasn’t better than Exy, but it was damn near close. Andrew kissed Kevin in a way Kevin had never expected to be kissed, let alone by Andrew. When Andrew’s teeth closed around his lower lip, he let out a rush of air and the tension unraveled from his body.
Warmth slowly trickled into his core as Andrew attached his mouth to Kevin’s neck. His teeth scraped along Kevin’s jaw, and Kevin shuddered. The sweet pull of his skin was enough to ground Kevin, to remind him that he was real, that he was here, that Andrew was the only person who could be on top of him.
But before Kevin could lose himself to the feeling, to the haze, he flexed his fingers, the ones in Andrew’s grip, and said, all breath, “Andrew–”
Cool air plunged across Kevin’s suddenly vacant neck. Andrew’s expression had not changed. He stared down at Kevin, looking utterly indifferent.
Weakly, Kevin said, “Not on the court.”
Andrew lifted his free hand and firmly pressed the palm to Kevin’s chest. Something in his gaze sharpened. He growled, “On the court.”
Then, his mouth was back on Kevin’s neck with a greater intensity than before. He nipped at Kevin’s earlobe. Kevin lifted his hips off the court floor. Andrew’s fingers tightened around his wrist, and they were kissing again. Kevin’s tongue swiped along Andrew’s upper lip and found its way into his mouth. The response left him gasping for breath, Andrew’s lips and teeth bruising his mouth the same way they’d bruised his neck.
The whole thing was like falling into a pool. One second, Kevin was walking along the edge, barely paying attention to the lights underneath the water splashing blue onto his face. The next, his entire world tilted sideways, and he submerged under.
A warm, insistent hand slipped beneath Kevin’s shirt. When Kevin tried again to roll his hips into Andrew’s, it pressed down, forcing him into the floor.
Some part of Kevin liked the way it felt. He liked knowing that Andrew was the one in control, that Andrew was the one he would listen to. He chased after Andrew’s lips as he pulled away.
“You,” Andrew said as his hand wandered down past Kevin’s jutting hip bone, past the waistband of his sweats, “Are a mess.”
“Andrew–” Kevin said, because it was the only thing he could say right now.
One finger slipped into Kevin’s pants, then another. Andrew tilted his head to the side, a silent question.
“Yes–” Kevin said, and this time, Andrew let him push his hips upward. “Yes, fuck–”
The heat of Andrew’s hand burned Kevin’s straining dick.
Andrew was not gentle, but Kevin didn’t need gentle. He needed the quick jerk of Andrew’s hand and the sharp bite of his teeth at his neck. But when Andrew thumbed at his head, Kevin reached for Andrew’s hair. To bring Andrew’s lips back to his. To have something, anything to hold onto while he leaked beneath Andrew’s fingers.
All breath left his throat.
Gone was the warmth of Andrew’s hand. Instead, he used it to rip Kevin’s hand from his hair and slam it back onto the court; his other hand squeezed Kevin’s throat. His fingers dug into the sides of Kevin’s neck, effectively cutting off his air supply. Kevin’s body wanted to react, wanted to fight back, but he suppressed the urge. It would only make Andrew kill him faster.
As his eyes watered, he looked up at a blurry Andrew. There was the beginnings of a snarl on his face, one lip curling back, his nose wrinkling. In the next second, that expression was gone. Replaced by a cold mask. And the familiarity of it took away some of the rising panic.
“Don’t,” Andrew said, and that one word carried the promise of something much worse than death. With his hand still around Kevin’s neck– Kevin could now feel the sting of his fingernails, making red indents that would still be there in the morning– Andrew leaned down so that he breathed in Kevin’s ear. “If you want this, we’re doing it my way. On the court and no touching . Understand?”
Kevin choked on his response.
Slowly, Andrew unstuck his fingers from Kevin’s neck, enough so that he could speak but not enough so that Kevin thought he was safe. His eyes bore into Kevin’s as he awaited an answer of words.
“I understand,” Kevin said, his voice hoarse. It felt like it had been a long time since someone had choked him, but not quite long enough for the feeling to be unfamiliar. As Andrew removed his hand, a sign that he accepted Kevin’s response, the weight of it lingered, phantom and heavy.
But Andrew didn’t give Kevin time to regain his breath. Within the next second, his hand was back to jerking off Kevin, smearing the precum in an attempt at lubrication. Andrew’s lips were like fire against Kevin’s, his tongue like liquid lava. Deep in Kevin’s gut, heat began to coil. It took all of Kevin’s self-control to keep his hands glued to the court floor. He clenched them into fists, digging his fingernails into his palm. He liked touching, but he needed this more than he needed the feel of skin on skin.
Andrew’s hand suddenly slowed, torturing Kevin as it slid down the length of his dick and back up, where he paused. Once more, Andrew’s thumb eased over the slit at Kevin’s head. Kevin’s hips snapped up. Andrew’s hand disappeared. The loss of it all, Kevin’s cock now flush and aching, had a whimper falling from Kevin’s mouth.
With half-lowered lids, Andrew stared at Kevin. “I can’t stand you.”
Then, the hand of sin gripped Kevin’s hip while the other roughly slipped up his shirt, all the way up to his chest, hiking his shirt up with it.
A low hiss snuck between Kevin’s teeth as Andrew mouthed at his nipple and promptly chomped down on it. His hips bucked, coming up empty.
“Andrew–” Kevin said, urgent. He sounded pathetically out of breath.
Ignoring him, Andrew moved down Kevin’s torso, nipping and licking across the toned lines of his clenching stomach. When he reached the curve between his own thumb and index finger, the curve of Kevin’s hip, he bit down hard enough to make Kevin groan. Kevin barely cut himself off, sinking his teeth into his lower lip.
In one smooth movement, Andrew pulled Kevin’s sweatpants from his waist to his knees, freeing Kevin’s hard erection. Cool air hit him, and he sucked in a breath.
His mind was nearly too hazy for him to register the fact that Andrew’s mouth was on his dick. A tremor ran through his body. Andrew lazily licked up Kevin’s length. It had been a long time, too long, since someone had sucked Kevin off. The sensation of Andrew’s mouth around him had him on the verge of coming. He slapped a hand over his mouth as a sound he didn’t want to admit escaped. His entire body twitched and shivered beneath Andrew, utterly under his control.
When Andrew slowly pulled back up, his teeth scraped up the sides of Kevin’s dick.
He glanced up at Kevin, at the red that had fanned out across his cheeks, at the way he was desperately holding his moans in and straining to keep his self-control in check, and said, “Might wanna hold onto something, Kev.”
If Kevin hadn’t been so dangerously close to the edge, he would have snapped back at Andrew. But then his dick was being swallowed again and he groaned in frustration and pleasure. It shouldn’t have been fair that Andrew was naturally gifted at both Exy and dick-sucking.
A familiar sensation shot through Kevin’s body. The pit of his stomach grew hot, the pressure building and building.
Between his fingers, Kevin said, this time with meaning, “ Andrew .”
Andrew pulled off of Kevin’s dick with a pop and coolly regarded him. At some point, one of his hands had moved to grip Kevin’s thigh. His fingers tightened, and his eyes narrowed. Kevin didn’t have the energy to spare to think about all the bruises covering him.
“Hm,” Andrew said. Spit slicked his lips shiny. Kevin could hardly bear to look. “Flip over.”
Oh, Kevin’s brain was certainly too addled to comprehend that. His dick twitched, quietly pleading for Andrew’s mouth again. Andrew looked at him like he was being impossible.
“I said turn over,” Andrew said.
When Kevin wasn’t moving fast enough for the goalie, Andrew took him by the hips and did it himself. In the nick of time, Kevin saved his throbbing cock from the hardwood floor beneath him by lifting his hips into the air. Though the coolness of the floor offered him the tiniest bit of relief. He pressed his palms hard into it.
In one easy pull, Andrew had Kevin’s sweats stripped from his body and thrown to the side. Kevin trembled. It would have been embarrassing if it had been anyone but Andrew.
With Andrew, Kevin let the whole world come crashing down on his head.
Kevin heard Andrew spit before he felt the press of his slick fingers against his bare hole. The line of his body went rigid. Draping himself across Kevin’s back, Andrew tugged at the shell of Kevin’s ear with his teeth and slowly pushed one finger inside Kevin.
He worked his single finger in and out while working his mouth along the back of Kevin’s neck. A distraction. But Kevin didn’t really need one until a second finger joined Andrew’s first. The unfamiliar burn forced a hiss from between Kevin’s teeth.
“You’re good at this, Kev,” Andrew murmured. He reached his free hand around Kevin’s waist to tug at his still hard dick. Kevin arched his back into the touch.
Andrew was thorough, methodical. His fingers stretched Kevin out so well that when he inserted a third, Kevin was panting. Not with pain, but with need. Then, with one hard shove, they touched a bundle of nerves.
Kevin jerked. Letting go of his once again leaking cock, Andrew pressed his hand flat to the spot between Kevin’s shoulder blades, effectively holding him in place.
“Hm,” was all Andrew said before curling his fingers. Pleasure shot through Kevin’s body the same way Andrew shot attempted goals all the way back up the court. A groan slipped past Kevin’s lips. And then Andrew was touching that same spot with every shove. Kevin’s fingers fumbled their way to his mouth, where he crushed them against his lips in an effort to both quiet himself and have something to do while Andrew took him apart.
Just as Kevin considered saying something, considered warning Andrew that he was at his wit’s end, his cock ready to spill, Andrew’s fingers pulled out. Kevin felt achingly empty.
Something akin to a whine came from somewhere deep in his throat.
Here he was, Kevin Day, future Court member, the only person in the entire sport who could beat Riko Moriyama, Kevin fucking Day, and he was begging. He couldn’t remember the last time he begged, didn’t want to. He’d curbed that habit soon after Riko’s ministrations had begun. In fact, he’d stopped asking for anything more than going pro in that same moment.
But he felt like he was splitting apart at the seams. Fitting that it would be on the court. Fitting that it would be beneath Andrew, the only person who was enough to hold him together.
“Stop that,” Andrew said. There was a shuffle of movement, the sound of a zipper, something ripping. Kevin craned his neck to look.
Andrew had plastic dangling from his teeth. He spit it out. The opened condom was in one hand, his other hand gripping Kevin’s hips. Kevin stared at the condom, feeling the heat gnawing in his stomach and the slow leak of his cock onto the court floor.
“You have a bad habit of staring at the things you want,” Andrew commented. He reached over and forced Kevin’s head back down.
Astonishingly, Kevin managed to say, “And you have a bad habit of pretending like you don’t want anything.”
Andrew took hold of the hair at the back of Kevin’s head and gripped tight enough to send a prickling sensation along his scalp. Kevin nearly whined at that, too.
“Careful, Kev,” Andrew said, then he spit again, into his hand. “Or I might not give you what you want.”
The thought was so unbearable that Andrew’s name came out of Kevin’s mouth in a rushed breath. His fingertips pressed into the ground before sliding off of it and into his palm. He sucked in a breath to keep quiet. A satisfied hum came from behind him. Andrew’s thumbs pulled Kevin’s ass apart, and then the blunt head of his cock pressed against Kevin’s hole.
“Good boy,” Andrew said and slowly buried himself in Kevin.
Kevin lost his grip on reality. There was only feeling, this feeling. He cursed violently beneath his breath.
Andrew allowed him a moment to get adjusted, to quit his swearing and get his shit together. Then, as leisurely as he’d pushed in, he pulled back out. The drag on Kevin’s insides seared pleasure through his body. Andrew’s hips snapped against Kevin’s. Kevin had lost count of how many times he’d felt the air punched from his lungs tonight.
That was all the warning Andrew gave before he drove into Kevin again and again at a steady, brutal pace.
At this point, trying to keep himself quiet was no use. Above him, there was only Andrew’s labored breathing, the catch of his breath each time a push in felt a little too good. Andrew’s fingers tightened on Kevin’s waist, and he tugged him hard back, forcing Kevin to meet his hips. Then, he shifted, and when he slammed back in, Kevin’s vision went white hot. He choked on his moan.
From there, Andrew picked up the pace. He became sloppier, his thrusts more erratic, rushed. Kevin shuddered violently.
He was close, so close.
“ Andrew– ” he said, desperate, and he wasn’t sure if it was a plea to stop or never let go.
“Just–” Andrew said. “ Fuck. ”
He leaned down over Kevin, burying his face in Kevin’s neck. With nearly the full weight of Andrew atop him, Kevin’s body bowed, his chest brushing against the hardwood floor, his thighs shaking from the effort of keeping himself upright. With his lips right against Kevin’s ear, Kevin heard each of Andrew’s harsh exhales. Kevin’s insides coiled, burning and burning. The fire was eating away at him, consuming him whole.
“Andrew– Andrew,” Kevin chanted. “I– fuck, I’m close–”
“Yeah,” Andrew said, voice ragged. “Just–” Andrew’s hips jerked, his dick hitting deep inside Kevin. A hand came up and twisted in Kevin’s hair, yanking his head back. Kevin gasped. Sharp teeth enclosed around his shoulder. Andrew convulsed above him, his thrusts barely slowing, a moan muffled against Kevin’s skin. And feeling the pain in his shoulder and the pain in his hair, feeling the pleasure of Andrew against him mixing with it all, Kevin came, too. White spilled across the court. His groan covered up the tailend of Andrew’s moan.
Together, they rode out their highs, Andrew still moving until he wasn’t anymore, until Kevin felt like his dick would dry up. As they both eventually stopped, everything felt heavy and hazy. But maybe that was Andrew briefly collapsing atop Kevin, and Kevin collapsing into the floor.
Kevin let out a long breath. His head felt warm. His stomach felt warm. The space between his thighs felt warm. Pleasure lingered, filling up Kevin’s loosened limbs.
Pushing himself off Kevin, Andrew pulled out of him. Kevin was too sated to care about the loss. And he was too tired to get up yet, so he listened to Andrew even out his breathing and tuck his dick back inside his pants. He listened to Andrew stand and marveled at how the goalie could do so on steady legs.
Footsteps echoed off the plexiglass as Andrew left Kevin sprawled on the ground. Kevin closed his eyes, ignoring the sticky feeling of cum against his stomach. It only took a couple of minutes before the footsteps returned. Kevin cracked open his eyes. Paper towels fell to the ground beside his face.
“Clean yourself up,” Andrew said, a clear order, his voice devoid of emotion.
The heat was slowly seeping from Kevin’s body, enough so that he could at last get up off the ground. Andrew didn’t wait. He walked back off the court as Kevin first cleaned the cum off his body and then wiped it off of the ground. He wasn’t quite yet sure how he would deal with this in the morning, how he would be able to return to this court and look at this exact spot on the ground, knowing how he’d dirtied it.
But that was tomorrow’s problem.
After Kevin put everything away and took an incredibly quick and incredibly cold shower, he wandered outside, to the star-filled sky, and saw Andrew already sitting in his car. Smoke floated outside the open window.
Neither of them said anything as Kevin dropped into the passenger seat.
Andrew didn’t have to ask how Kevin was feeling, if Exy had or hadn’t been enough, if the sex had or hadn’t been enough. He either already knew the answer or simply didn’t care. Kevin decided that the combination of the both had done enough. His hand no longer screamed in the memory of pain, and he had forgotten the look of anger and jealousy in Riko’s eyes the moment Andrew had truly touched him. For once, his chest didn’t feel tight.
As Andrew zipped out of the parking lot, Kevin’s skin still buzzed. Absentmindedly, he dipped his fingers beneath the collar of his shirt and traced the outline of Andrew’s teeth against his shoulder.
He didn’t normally leave a mark. But then again, they didn’t normally get to the point where Andrew actually came. If the afterthought of orgasm and the darkness of the sky weren’t weighing on Kevin’s eyelids, maybe he would have let himself soak that in and wonder in amazement at the whole thing.
Instead, he leaned his head against the window, the cool glass spreading across his temple. He was sure he was covered in bruises, especially around his neck from both Andrew’s hands and his mouth, but Kevin was also sure that the team would simply think they had gotten in a fight. Again, that was a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight, Kevin listened to the whistle of wind through the window, glowing in the aftermath of sex, a mind at peace, and moonlight, and reminded himself that he was a Fox, now and always.